La Reine
by theFGnat
Summary: A small collection of one-shots about a love story that deserved to be told: the life of Catherine de Valois, Queen of England and France with her husband King Henry V. (rated M for chapter 4)
1. Le début de toute chose

**Sooo, this is me trying something new. My first try at romance, and not just any romance, but romance based on not only historical characters, but frickin Shakespeare characters! I'm not so mad yet as to try to write anything in iambic pentameter (o_O), but I just couldn't resist. I watched this series and was blown away by it. The stories and characters are great not to mention the incredible performances (Tom Hiddleston! 8D). I watched Harry and Kate at the end of Henry V and thought this had to be written. And so here I am, hoping this works and I don't make a fool out of myself having a go at Shakespeare...**

**Anyhow, feedback is welcome and I hope you'll enjoy this. :)**

**Cheers!**

**Nat.**

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Le Début de Toute Chose.

A crowd full of people. Screaming, cheering. Words she could barely make out and understand. At the head of the fileshe rode beside her husband, whose proud gaze moved across the joyous mass, nodding sometimes to one face or another. Inwardly, Catherine couldn't help but marvel at the image the King presented. The crown, though simpler than those of his predecessors, shone brightly in the morning sun, a glorious golden halo. She could not imagine how his appearance could frighten maidens away, as he had claimed the day they met, for his was a handsome face. She repressed a giggle. She had to remain calm and dignified for all too soon she would be Queen, and this her people, could not possibly take her for any less. What would they think of a Queen giggling by herself like some foolish girl. If anything, this was her role and duty for now: gain their respect. Here there were, on each side of the road leading to the royal castle, surrounding her, _watching_ her. The common people, come to celebrate the King's successful return from France.

France_. _Oh how she missed it. Familiar faces and halls she grew up with, even the language. Though she now understood most English words, she had still trouble speaking, and she always felt self conscious about her broken sentences. It all left her with the most terrible head ache at the end of the day. Headaches like the one she had now. All this cheering, the shouting of words she couldn't make out, the unfamiliarity of it all made her feel oppressed, scared even. She visibly tensed, try as she might to not let her feelings show. God she wanted nothing more than to hide beneath the sheets of her bed.

But then she felt something. A warm gloved hand had wrapped itself around her much smaller one. She looked up and over to her husband, who now gave her a reassuring look as he gently squeezed her hand. The fierceness of his eyes had melted away, leaving in its wake only warmth and softness, and she couldn't help but smile back.

This. This she could get used to.

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_(Le Début de Toute Chose = The Beginning of All Things.)_

**Please tell me what you think! :)**


	2. Sous le charme

**Revised edition ;D**

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Sous le Charme.

She laughed. She just couldn't help it it seemed. He could imagine that he was quite a sight, how the he tried to impress her, grinning like the fool he so tried not to be in her presence, and he could feel the corners of his eyes crinkling with good humor. His white stallion pawed at the ground, and with its neck elegantly rounded it pranced over to her, a fore leg rising high with each step it took. It's rider, Harry, had it do all types of tricks and moves, that in all resembled some kind of elaborate dance. Although the animal was actually a war horse, its master had it learn all types of things to impress his fair wife. He knew his Kate felt often homesick, though she tried to hide it behind the dignified mask that befitted her status. If she sometimes struggled still with the language or the cultural differences with France, she had well adapted to her role as Queen. And he was proud of her.

As the King of England he had many responsibilities, but he made it a point to spend as much time with her as he could, to make her laugh. He loved her truly. At first it had been her beauty that had ensnared his heart. But now it was her gentle, shy nature and wry humor that made his heart long for her presence. Her "mauvaise foi" as the French called it was most endearing, for as indignant and offended as she may sound, her eyes always twinkled playfully at him. And so, this morning he had taken her out riding in the county side, even as he did before he came to wage war in France. This morning he had left his crown back in the castle. This morning it was only Kate and him.

And this last thought was a thought too much, for at last the stallion had decided it had enough , and the King's lack of attention was rewarded with a dive in the lush damp grass. Lying there on his back, shocked at the horse's unusual behavior, Harry became aware of approaching footsteps. Looking up, he grinned a bit self consciously at his wife. He sat up, and as she gave him her hand to help him up. He smirked, and pulled her down unto him in the tall grass. Her yell of surprise was cut short when their lips met in a passionate kiss. A hand in the hollow of her back the other tangled in her long hair, Harry couldn't remember ever feeling more at peace or happier. The worries and responsibilities from the court a while forgotten, he let the witchcraft of her lips do its wonder.

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**A bientôt!**


	3. Le Roi est mort! Vive le Roi!

**Le Roi Est Mort! ****Vive le Roi!**

I just feel so numb. I don't understand it. Here you have waged war with France, my people and my father. Faced off armies so much larger than yours, by God, you should have died. Would have. If not for your spirit. A soldier's spirit. For that is what you are -_were._ And a king too. And what a king. _" __And take me, take a soldier. Take a soldier, take a king." _I remember your words, the first time we met, and how you declared your love for me. Love which I returned, eventually. You always were a fighter weren't you. Fighting with your father in your wild youth. Fighting rebels in the North. Fighting in the fields of France. Fighting for my love.

Fight. That is something you did well indeed: for what you wanted you got. Even when all the odds are against you.

Then why do I have to bury you now? Why? Tell me. How come that you defeat armies over twice the size of yours, live...and then die because of some stupid disease? Why does it have to be so? Why does your son have to be King when he is but two months old? A son who will have never known, or even so much as _met_ his father. Were you happy when the news were brought to you? That you are a father. That you have a son. Healthy and fit to be your heir.

I know you were. But I wish you could have been there. I wish I could have showed him to you. That I could have seen the look on your face, my Harry. I wish I could have shown you your own little Harry. Our little prince.

But I couldn't. And I never will be able to.

Soon they will be back with your body. Soon, you will be returned to me my love. Only to be taken from me forever. And look at my boy, now Henry VI and whisper: "le roi est mort. Vive le roi."

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**Sooo? That good? Please tell me what you think! :)**


	4. Roi et Dame de Coeur

**This chapter is rated M for some sex...though it is rather mild, and not very graphic. Anyway, this is my first so, please, bear with me.**

**Hope you enjoy!**

**Cheers! :D**

**Nat.**

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**Roi et Dame de Cœur**

They call him the Warrior King. After years and decades of war he is the one king who has succeeded, where many before have failed. The one who one day will not only be called King of England and Ireland, but also King of France. But tonight, tonight he is none of those things. Tonight, he is Harry. Her husband. And that thought frightens her somewhat. For this is her wedding night, and she knows what is expected of her. Her new husband is charming, cheeky and witty as they come, a good man. But she can't help feeling nervous. She smiles shyly, and he smiles gently back at her. He seems to feel her anxiety, and slowly approaches her. He wraps his arms around her, pulling her in a warm embrace, hands gliding up and down her back reassuringly, swaying slightly, as if dancing to some unknown tune.

Swaying. Swaying. She can feel the soothing beat of his heart beneath her ear as she closes her eyes, feeling herself relax under his touch. She doesn't know how much time passes, and she doesn't care. For now, she is at peace, her nervousness at the back of her mind. She dimly realizes that her husband has stopped moving, now simply holding her. Harry pulls back, and his hands move up to cup her face, a thumb gently stroking her cheek. She looks up at him, and it is shocking to her how tall he is. A trait she once found to be intimidating, now a source of reassurance. His lips meet hers, and what started off as a tender kiss becomes heated and desperate. She can feel how he is trying to reign himself in, to take things slow, and she can't help be feel grateful for that.

Out of breath and brows leaning against the other, they hold and play with other's hands, stroking, intertwining them. His hands are a rough and calloused, the hands of a soldier. And yet they remain slender, like the hands of an artist. Hands that now slowly travel up her gown, resting on the hem of her light gown. He looks at her, silently asking permission. She feels nervous again, but she gives it nonetheless. She lets him disrobe her. When he pulls her towards the bed, she lets him. She lets him lay her down on it. She lets him caress her body, she lets him kiss her. And she lets go of her fear. Lets herself enjoy the sweet pleasures he bestows on her.

Before she knows it he is naked, hovering above her. She can feel the tickle of his beard and the softness of his lips trailing kisses on her neck, one hand palming her right breast while the other rests on her hip. He is everywhere, and she loses herself in the feel of him, all coherent thought discarded. They are one as he joins his body to hers with a quiet moan. And initial pain soon dissolves into ecstasy as the bliss of their love-making takes hold of her. She holds him close. As close as humanly possible, clutching at his strong shoulders and one hand digging into his scalp. And in the midst of their passion, she can hear three little words raggedly breathed in her ear over and over again..."I love you."

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**Sooo what do you think about my little sex scene? Please review! :D **

**Cheers!**


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